Stepping

I was in a cage. I was at a New Year's party at the home of kinky friends. It was late and I had already been played with at least once, whipped and spanked. I was in that cozy place I go to afterwards, after the initial buzz and high abates and my brain slows down. Immediately after play, I tend to have a lot of excess energy. I wander around, unable to keep still, until finally, like an overspent toddler I eventually settle somewhere quiet to rest and regroup.

The cage was wooden, built underneath a table where another woman lay above me being flogged and beaten by two other tops, my Sir one of them. He stood behind me, and I lay there on the mat inside the cage, resting and watching the scenes going on around me, content to be nearby my Sir, although not directly interacting with him.

Suddenly, I felt his foot upon me. I've never, in my life, had anyone put their shoe on me in such a position. I melted. Something about that just gets me. Its the possessiveness, the positioning, the fact that it's a foot, that I'm on the ground, that it holds me in place there where I belong and want to be. One moment I'm just lying on the ground, unclaimed, unbidden, inactive. By the mere act of his foot upon me, suddenly I'm owned, held, positioned and actively involved.

That's all it was. It led to nothing after that, although at some point when I was released I know that I moved to the foot again, kissed its boot, and lay my cheek upon it, unwilling to remove myself from contact with my beloved.

I suppose on some level there could be perceived an element of humiliation in this. One is, after all, beneath the foot of someone else, there to be trod upon and touched by the sole which has been god knows what dirty places. There to be a foot rest, no longer a girl, no longer anything other than that which supports his foot, the same way a step might, while his attention is presumably focused elsewhere.

I felt not a scrap of humiliation, though. My adoration and desire for connection and attention from my Sir is so strong, that it overrides that sense of shame I perhaps should have felt. Or maybe that's the secret to humiliation play - that it truly isn't. Because this man could in fact, do nearly anything to me, and my entire being would be open and content in it, simply because it's his bidding. For him I'm willing to be things I otherwise would consider unattractive or unsexy. Things I would consider beneath me in other contexts. The only common denominator being his will for me to do or be that thing.

A Consideration of Disobedience

I have nothing to prove. There is no prize for minding, for being a good girl. My transgressions have normally been of the kind where I'm just clueless as to what it is that I've done wrong. Understanding how to be in tune with my Master is a struggle, was a struggle since early on. I never meant to do a single thing that was anathema to his will. He seemed puzzled at how blithely I did my own thing, I know he tried to not break my spirit. Now I fear it's set too well, the awareness of his mind within my own.

In the past, my errors were of a disregard for my safety. I didn't set appropriate boundaries when I interacted with play partners. I took risks, accepting car rides, trusting too easily. I'm not as careful with my body or with my life, actually, as he wants me to be. I wanted him to do these things for me, to make the decisions, speak to my partners, say yes to this, no to that. On some level it was the hotness of being given to another to play with that I wanted, the being withheld from someone who wanted to toy with me, the exertion of his power and control of me, his ownership displayed openly. On the other hand, it was also me just wanting to avoid making those choices on my own ... I like being told what to do, what not to do - as long as it's what I want anyway. He wants, I speculate here, for me to assume his values and mores, to incorporate them into my own processes and apply them independently. Again with the offering ... so I'm not to merely be told what to do, I must instead absorb what to do without instruction - offer anticipatory obedience rather than just minding him?

My Sir is protective of me. But sometimes caution is so boring. I like excitement and risk, I enjoy doing things I shouldn't be doing, the danger, the chance of being caught. I like to do things I'm not quite ready for, drive too fast. Tell me someone or something is dangerous or forbidden and it's as if a beacon turns onto that one thing, lingering in my mind to tempt me constantly.

So, right now I may not attend kink events. It's for a good reason, has been a wise decision he made that served me well. And in a very short time from now this restriction will be over. But suddenly my awareness of the things I'm missing and my itch to go do them has overwhelmed me. The opportunities are numerous and enticing. And my Master is otherwise occupied at the moment.

I made a decision to go to an event tonight. I thought about it, weighed the risks in my mind and decided it was safe. I heard his voice in my mind, knowing he would say to wait until the time he had set for me, but I pushed it away.

For a bit, I felt fine with my decision. It is, after all, ultimately my life, right? I wasn't going to let anyone touch me, its my life but his body, so I could protect what was his and just socialize harmlessly with what is mine. Then I began to worry, who might see me there? Do they know him? Would they report to him that they saw me, innocently for sure, but still. How could I avoid that potential? A disguise? Furthermore, as my habit is to tell him my plans, what was I to do about that? Lie? An outright black and white, no question of nuance lie, as to my plans? Or lie by omission? Or lie by claiming an accident - "I thought it was just a normal event at a bar, not one of THOSE parties"?

I knew that wouldn't work, I'm too transparent to him. He would see through it in an instant, in fact even thinking of lying to him began to make me nervous - I worry at times he has a special sense that lets him know when I'm thinking of doing something I shouldn't. I find myself telling him things that there is no reason he could ever know, except that he seems to meander through my mind at times and know things there is no way he should.

So I sat down, finally to write him a note - letting him know where I was going and what I was doing and why. Something along the lines of "I've chosen to disobey you, although I can't recall if it's just a recommendation or an order" and perhaps asking his forgiveness in advance, knowing he'd be extremely displeased, hoping it wouldn't be taken as a sign I wanted to be released, hoping the punishment wouldn't be silence. I intended to put in my note that I would take full responsibility should any negative event occur in my life as a result of my taking this risk, no matter how small.

I didn't get two sentences into it before abandoning the project. I want to go. But although he's not here, I know the answer. I think if he were here, if we could discuss it, he might agree with me the risks were minimal. He might even be persuaded against his better judgement to allow it. But absent that grudging permission, if I disobey him ... telling him of my intention to do so, even having thought it out, how will he feel? What will he do? Its almost worse to disobey after such prolonged consideration, isn't it?

I don't know if its the fear of punishment, or of his disappointment, or of what it would say about our dynamic if I do something I want to rather than what he wants me to do. Its not fair. He should be here with me, then, if he says no. Its not necessary, he should be reasonable and see that. Shouldn't he be happy with me that I'm not contriving to lie, that although it crossed my mind that I could do so and get away with it, I chose instead to advertise my failure to obey, to telegraph my disobedience?

But I can't. Maybe it's my need to follow the rules of the game? Some childish extension of needing to color within the lines, even though I hate it when I do that and will color outside them just because I catch myself at staying within them? But then, if I break one of the most basic and simple rules...

I'm a grown up, its just a game, right? I can walk out that door and do whatever I want and he'll probably never find out or by the time he does, the danger will have passed and I'll have been proven right, nothing happened as a result of my risk. But he'll know, then, that when it comes down to my will or his, which one I choose. And I can't bear the idea of looking into his eyes if it came to that.

I really want to go. But instead I stay and I write, my brain in turmoil, not quite understanding. Is bending my will to his a choice I make, I do have a choice, right - or am I past that? There is no prize for being a good girl. I have nothing to prove...so why?

Struggling into Submission

I never considered myself submissive in the past. I've been called willful, rebellious, stubborn and contrary. I tend to be argumentative and to want my own way. I'm more selfish, rather than selfless. Focusing on the needs of another has been something I've resisted in the past. My service-orientation has been limited to my need to tend to my children, the only place I've truly understood the satisfaction of making things better for someone else. In short, I don't tend to the traits associated with submissives. I admire these traits in others, and the lack of them has at times made me feel unfeminine.

How then, did I discover these hidden and powerful places inside of me, the latent desire to be overtaken, the longing to kneel before another, the wish to be made to do that which I do not want? Why would I ever bend to someone else's will? I honestly have no idea. How do these conditions translate to fulfillment,the sexual and emotional and spiritual completion?

What I know is that "it", the desire to submit, was there within me before I knew the words, and that it's been something I've resisted most of my life. In fact I would guess that significant portions of my personality have been the direct result of my efforts to conceal and shield my real nature from those around me. My brattish manners, my need to challenge anyone I react to in a way I now recognize as submissive ... I've been in battle perpetually with this part of myself. I recognize it in the panic and turmoil I felt, and still feel when exposed to overt submissive behavior, or when confronted with dominance. I struggle to contain these feelings, to resist them, to not look.

My awareness of what exactly it is that was setting me off began when I entered the bdsm scene, thinking I was there only to explore sexual play or, rather, play that would enhance and feed my sexuality for later expression in private. I was interested in spanking, whipping, bondage - as though I could experience those activities in public and bottle up the results for later on, fodder for my private sexual life as a married woman. I had heard the term submissive but doubted it pertained to me.

My interest or need revealed itself as agitation at first. Outrage at the idea of ownership when I heard it discussed. My distress at a photo of a woman in pearls and formal wear eating her dinner off the kitchen floor, at seeing my friend wearing a collar and leash. Later, at being told I had to ask for things I wanted such as a kiss. Wanting to be close to someone, knowing there was no place to sit but at his feet and the senseless concern over how to get from standing in the middle of the room to kneeling beside him. Confusion over where these feelings were coming from - why out of the blue would I have a compulsion to kneel before someone, where does that originate, suddenly and unbidden? And more importantly, where do these kinds of compulsions lead?

The need to submit, in my mind, goes beyond and through the easier sexual sort of submission that makes my heart speed up and my body tremble. That can be done in the context of a sex game, that level of submission is easy ... hold your arms here, touch me there, don't move - innocent games any lover can accomplish for fun. Where it becomes tricky is the place, the line where trust and control intersect, where I have to abandon and release my own preference, instinct, want and intuition and replace it with the directive of another. In sexual terms its the difference between the lovers game of bondage, of force and resistance, and the more subtle relinquishment of will. The elimination of restraints and force, the need to take morphed into those things instead being offered.

Offering implies freedom. But I don't think that to be the case, because I've learned to offer things I don't desire innately on my own, not from my own need or purpose. At first the offer is insincere, an effort to please, to meet the expectation, to avoid disappointment. Later I sense it will be more genuine, an automatic response. Holding still while clamps are applied. Not pulling back despite an instinct to do so. Relaxing into pain rather than resisting. Learning to sigh instead of cry out. Most difficult, offering something when I so much want the option to say no, or to be able to change my mind after we start. There is an offering, but the word is also synonymous with sacrifice, which I find more accurate. In that sense, offering as a submissive is similar to an offering made on an alter to appease a personal God...it is usually either something precious, difficult or painful to give up, or something requiring work or effort. Very different from taking, more difficult for one resistant to submission. And therefore, more profound?

Its the being observed and left open to judgement or rejection, the vulnerable place where I put my lips to a boot, kneel, cast my eyes down and say Yes, Sir and am not laughed at for the emotion and passions that erupt. In my life it's living in certain ways according to the preferences of another, the desire to avoid disappointing someone that makes me try harder and make different choices. In sexual terms its surrendering my body to the desires of the other - receiving pleasure yes, but the pleasing more, experiencing the joy abstractly, as a function of proxy.

Today, I still "resist" because I enjoy the sensation of my walls. I've waited so long, it turns out, for this ... guidance that I need to feel it's presence. I crave the stern tone, the reproach, the glance that makes my knees buckle. I strain in his presence to not kneel on the floor because I want to prolong the moment when I do so, either at his hand or on my own. It's the descent downward that thrills me, the elevator ride I take from belonging to myself to belonging to him. I want to feel that change, experience the transformation again and again. It's nearly as moving to not submit in the midst of my strong compulsion to do so, like holding the breath, knowing the relief that will come when it's released, when I can let go and exhale and know I am safe.